


As You Wish

by Attic



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, No Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attic/pseuds/Attic
Summary: Sara abandoned the krogan scouts to save the salarian Pathfinder Zevin Raeka. By leaving Drack's scouts to a fate worse than death, she sent a terrible message to her crew members, her new family in the Andromeda Galaxy - but it's okay. She can live with their disappointment and anger just a little bit longer. She will turn herself in after the Archon is defeated for all the war crimes she has committed. She will pay for the price that must be paid.
Relationships: Zevin Raeka/Female Ryder | Sara
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

“Even one krogan life matters.” Drack’s voice isn’t even that loud, “Ryder, I thought you would understand.”

This hurts Sara more than she expected.

Sara almost wishes that he was yelling at her. Instead, Drack stares at her in a way that Sara will never get used to. Resigned, guarded. As if she was not his commander, his friend, but a threat. 

“Drack, I know you won’t accept my apologies, but please know this, and know that my words are true -” Sara hears herself, “I have committed a crime, and I am willing to pay for it. I do not regret my choice, but I will hand myself over to your clan after the kett is defeated.”

The solemnity in that statement makes it an oath. Sara locks eyes with Drack, who is obviously taken aback by the sudden declaration of crime and responsibility. 

The command bridge is quiet as a graveyard. Even the soft humming of the starship’s engine seems to have disappeared. 

Without a word, Drack leaves the command bridge. Her pilot and science officer were silent when Drack was here. Now he’s gone, and Sara is suddenly afraid to even face them. She betrayed Drack by abandoning the krogan scouts in the test tanks to save a salarian. The connotation was there, undeniable, even though it was never Sara’s intention.

“I will inform the Initiative that we have secured the salarian Ark. Kallo, navigate us back to the Nexus. We will escort the Paarchero home. ” 

She issues her command, calm and level-headed as ever. She is still wearing the Remnant suit, the dark red glow on her suit casts an ominous shadow upon her face. The green blood of the Archon paints her face, dripping down from her cheek. Pathfinder Ryder releases her grips.

Kallo complies. Sara’s expression is carefully blank as she leaves the command bridge. Peebee is leaning against the escape pod, and she makes an awkward attempt to straighten her figure as Sara walks by. Sara pays her no heed, afraid of seeing what she will undoubtedly find on her face. 

Instead, she quickens her footsteps. She is running to her room. She has to flee from the gaze of her friends.

She simply needs to climb down the ladder to reach her room, but her hands are trembling and her legs are noodly. It takes her tremendous effort just to climb down. When she is finally in her room again, she immediately collapses onto the floor. 

“Pathfinder!”

It is uncharacteristic for SAM to shout, his synthetic voice tight with concern. Sara, however, does not have the energy to comment on it, to thank him for worrying about her. She is alive - and will remain that way. This is for sure. She knows her own body.

With shaky hands, she takes off her suit; the smart textile designed to withhold gunfire and bombs is already destroyed beyond recognition. The fight on the Archon’s ship was vicious; Sara should count herself lucky that she survived, albeit barely.

There have been slashes and bruises, but those are relatively mild. When she finally takes away the torso piece of her armor, blood starts dripping, gradually pooling to the ground around her. 

She puts her hands on her abdomen and gasps at the searing pain. Her undershirt, originally white, is now scarlet red after being drenched in blood. She pretended as if she was unscathed when facing the Archon. She appeared as if she was unharmed when addressing her team. Now, in her room, with only SAM present, she suddenly loses all the energy to even sit on the floor. Her limbs are wobbly, her body weak, and she considers lying down on the floor and just passing out.

“Pathfinder ...”

“Well, this is embarrassing...” a choked laugh escapes her lips, “SAM, do you think you can help me out a little bit?”

“I have already slowed your heartbeat so that you won’t lose too much blood. I will do what I can to quicken the healing. I must insist, again, that you should see Dr. T’Perro, although you already gave me your answer.”

“What would I do without you ...”

Her voice is so weak that Sara isn’t sure if she actually voices her thought. Her blood paints her hands, her face, and her sight. With tremendous effort, she pops herself up against a wall, her trembling hand leaving an array of sinister prints. But every step she takes is torture, and the edge of her vision starts getting dark. 

“Forgive me, SAM ...”

She collapses onto the floor again.

 _If I had a body of my own, I would carry you to your bed._

She feels SAM’s intention, the gentleness that this ephemeral thought conveys. 

“There is nothing to forgive, Pathfinder… Sara. I will not let you die.”

……

In her dream, she stands on a cliff. Below her is dark, deep water. The waves crash onto the reefs. The loudness is deafening and water splashes on her face. Her vision becomes blurry, as she listens to the beckoning of the water.

She raises her hands. They are stained with the blood of different colors. The smell is as revolting as it is eerie.

In the water, she sees the suffering she has caused. Her lack of knowledge as a Pathfinder. Her incompetence. She spoke against Sarissa for abandoning the woman she was supposed to guard, and now the asari have developed a deep distrust in her. Many disillusioned asari left the Initiative for Kadara. In the water, she sees the tired face of each and every one of them, who slept six hundred years for a dream that never was. She encouraged, or rather, forced, Avitus to take the leadership role from Macen, because she thought the turian people would benefit from the guidance of the late Pathfinder’s second in command. However, he becomes so hopeless, so forlorn, and he is always seen staring at the holographic projection of his predecessor. She made him sacrifice his happiness.

Now the krogan scouts are among them. She sees them suffering and struggling in the test tanks. 

Her father would never have caused so much suffering. Her father always knew what to do. He was the original Pathfinder, trained for the job. She stole the mantle of Pathfinder from Cora, who remains loyal to her nonetheless. 

She closes her eyes and opens her arms. Then she allows herself to fall into the water. The dead are calling for her name. She longs to join them. 

……

Suddenly she opens her eyes, pulled away from this bizarre dream. She is still on the floor, lying in the pool of her own blood. Her body is still too heavy, but the sharp pain on her abdomen subdued. She is no longer bleeding - SAM saved her, again. 

He was also the one who pulled her out of her sleep. But why?

Her doorbell rings. That small, soothing sound, designed to gently bring one’s attention, is so sudden that Sara almost trembles and gasps, her hand on the pistol in an instant.

She grips the weapon, knuckles white. Slowly, she puts it down. It is ridiculous that she would even reach for it in the first place. No one except for her crew members would come to her door at this hour. 

Who could it be, then? Is it Drack? Did he come to interrogate her, or perhaps to kill her? Maybe it’s Vetra, who values loyalty above everything else, so she came to resign from her post on Sara’s starship, disgusted by her action. Or it could be Jaal, coming to express his disappointment in her.

“Please give me a moment.”

She hopes her voice hasn’t betrayed her weakened state. She pulls down her duvet to cover the blood and shoves her shelves against the wall to hide the red handprints. She quickly discards her bloodied clothes and changes into a black nightgown - she never likes it, but the dark color will conceal her blood, should her wounds bleed again.

Sara readies herself for whatever is to come, but she is still shocked when the door finally opens.

“Pathfinder Ryder.”

Her guest is not one of her squadmates. Sara would recognize that pristine, distinct voice from anywhere. 

Zevin Raeka is standing at her doorsteps. By the dim light of stars outside of the windows, half of her figure is almost cloaked in shadow. She is not wearing the tech-enhanced armor - the one she wore when Sara awoke her. It is a long, white robe, with red coloring decorating her sleeves and collar. There are buttons on her sleeves - smart textiles, shedding soft light of dark blue. Similar buttons are also found on her groves, their light subdued and attenuated. It is strangely enticing to just look at her, the slender, white-robed figure decorated with the enchanting light that she has only observed from the bioluminescence flowers on Harvarl. 

Sara has always loved Harvarl, the ancestry home of the angara people. It is a wonderland with colorful, flying animals, and the moons would cast their iridescent veil upon the beautiful and treacherous land. There is something about this planet, something primitive, feral, unhinged. The forceful nature of Harvarl’s beauty and the ramification of invasive, destructive vines serve it well.

The other woman is slightly too tall and the hallway is very dark; Sara cannot see her eyes but she can feel her gaze. Sara is on Harvarl again, face to face with the strange force of nature of that dying planet. She is fearful of the planet, but with fear comes exhilaration and … relief. The same relief that she found when staring down at the deep, black water in her dream, with crawling phantoms and screaming shapes howling her name and demanding her life. 

The same feeling haunts her as she looks at Raeka. The other woman does look like a ghost from some Earth legend, shrouded in white and wandering in the dark. Had she left Raeka to die, would the salarian Pathfinder find a way back to her in dreams? Would she join people whose blood stained Sara’s hands? Would she - 

_Would you save me? Would you save me from what I am now, from what I have done?_

Belatedly, Sara realizes that she has been silent for a while, staring at Raeka and lost in her own thoughts. She steps aside, allowing the other woman to enter.

Raeka’s eyes are on the strange arrangement that Sara haphazardly put together to hide the fact that she was bleeding heavily, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

“I’m sorry to have disrupted your sleep,” Raeka tells her. “But I had to come. I have to … ” she glances away, almost bashfully, “I need to … Well, I was told that you haven’t been seen by your doctor after our Ark was secured.”

She already knows what Raeka is going to say.

Raeka’s hand is on her collar now, and Sara suddenly realizes that Raeka has closed the distance between them. Those long fingers linger along her neck. Raeka is not touching her, but her hand is so close that Sara can almost feel it. Raeka must have felt her quickened pulses as well.

“You took the hit for me. I would like to tend your wounds, if you don’t mind.”

 _Of course Raeka noticed._ True to her reputation, the salarian Pathfinder is observant. When a kett soldier tried to shoot at Raeka, Sara shielded her from his gunfire that destroyed her helmet and blasted away part of her armor. She didn’t feel anything except for the wetness on her abdomen, under the textile, but she knew what it was. She made sure to hide it, quickly. Seems like her effort was futile.

“That won't be necessary.” 

Raeka’s hand drops, not looking surprised. Still, she asks:

“May I ask why?”

 _Why?_ Sara scoffs. At herself, of course, but it’s possible that Raeka takes it the wrong way. She doesn’t want to answer the question.

Raeka’s eyes soften. She asks, again, and the question uttered is different from the one Sara expected. She wonders if Raeka noticed her reluctance because the other woman changes the topic.

“Why did you put your life on the line to save me?”

“Because I had to protect you.” That, at least Sara can answer with honesty.

“You put too much faith in me, Ryder. I am honored,” once again, Raeka doesn’t push the question, nor does she force Sara to answer why she refuses to seek medical treatment, “I know who you want me to be, and my only fear is that one day, you will be disappointed. I am not who you think I am, and I will never be.”

As a race that thinks fast and acts fast, the salarians are surprisingly soft-spoken. Raeka is no exception. Then she offers Sara a smile, a courteous, concerned one, as if to make up for the suddenness of the unprompted visit. 

“Who I think you are ...” Sara repeats. She lowers her eyes, lost in her thoughts. When she raises her head again, there’s light in her eyes, as a pale shimmer of moonlight dancing on the surface of the vast ocean. 

Salarians are not considered attractive to human standards, but Sara is always able to look over the facile appearance of an individual. Raeka is beautiful, almost in an ethereal way. Her figure is hauntingly thin, almost gaunt as a ghost, and Sara was concerned if the opposite force of firing of her assault rifle would knock the other woman off balance. Yet Raeka handled her weapon with the deadly grace of an asari huntress. When she checked her gun, the only thing that Sara could see was the determination in her action, the calmness on her face. Those long fingers caressed the rifle reverently as she murmured something to her weapon - it was intimate - as if she was talking to a lover to whom she had entrusted her life.

Raeka is not a biotic, but there’s only a few biotics that can hope to challenge Raeka in combat. When she was trapped by the enemy, Raeka was still calm enough to give out commands - she prioritized her people on the Ark and guided Hajyer to dislodge the Paarchero from the Archon’s ship. Never once did she panic, even in the face of death and possibly a fate even worse - exaltation. 

This is what a Pathfinder should be. An exceptional commander and a skilled soldier. She minimized the casualties that her people suffered - unlike Sara, who always leaves a trail of corpses of her own people wherever she goes.

“All I asked for was _you_ , Pathfinder Raeka.” Sara smiles, her expression soft and lovely. For a moment, she gazes at Raeka, into her large eyes with such hope and affection as if looking at something precious, “that’s why I came back for you. I would always come back for you.”

Raeka closes her eyes, wistfulness in her voice: “you don’t know me.” 

“True, but my father did, and he chose you.”

“If you value his opinion so much, would it change your mind if I tell you that Alec would hope that his daughter seeks medical attention when needed?”

Sara’s lips curl up into a smile: “don’t put words in a dead man’s mouth. Your words are yours and yours alone. Don’t pretend to speak for him.”

Raeka does not respond to that. She simply tilts her head, thinking.

“Very well,” Raeka concedes, and she smiles again, sad and sweet at the same time, “but Ryder, I brought antibiotics and other medications that you might need. With SAM, I have no doubt that you will survive without any permanent damage, but it pains me to see that you intentionally make yourself suffer. Therefore, I hope you’ll reconsider - let me tend your wounds, please.” 

Raeka’s voice is gentle, her eyes true, and she has been nothing if not comforting and considerate. She looks at Sara as if her happiness depends on Sara’s answer. It is too much, Sara almost wants to indulge her, let her do what she wants.

Raeka doesn’t touch her, but her gaze alone holds her still. She is unable to move her face, unable to even look away. In the darkness of her bedroom where the only lights are the dim shimmers of the stars outside, Raeka’s eyes seem to bear into her chest like that of a mysterious spirit, only sweeter, kinder, and more mesmerizing. 

“Is this an order?” 

Raeka is confused by her question. She says, “I have no right to order you. Our titles are equal.”

“Are they?” Sara scoffs at her words, “no. You were appointed six hundred years ago, by the Andromeda Initiative. You were elected by your people. I am but a … ” she trails off, closing her eyes, “I only became a Pathfinder because my father was one.” Then she glares at the other woman, daring her to do as she is asked. There is simply no reason that Raeka, always treating her with respect, would agree. Also, as the salarian Pathfinder, issuing a command at the human Pathfinder will not be taken kindly by Sara’s people.

Raeka holds her gaze. She considers Sara’s words with so much deliberation as if she’s contemplating a scientific hypothesis. Finally, she speaks again, having made up her mind.

“As you wish.”

This time, it is Sara who looks up, shock on her face. She did not expect Raeka to go along with it - she expected polite refusal, in which case she would decline Raeka's request and ask the other woman to leave. Her eyes are so wide that her expression must be comical, because Raeka lets out a little laugh.

Then, Raeka raises her hand, once again, and her fingers reach for her face.

Raeka’s hand is gloved, brushing against her face. The touch is so light, as her three fingers trace gently along the shape of Sara’s cheek, her throat, then its rests upon Ryder’s collarbone where her nightgown is held together by a button. Her eyes follow where her fingers go, her touch devoid of warmth. Yet Sara tenses up at her touch. Then she shudders, averting her eyes.

Raeka’s touch leaves a trace of blazing fire; despite its gentleness, Sara grits her teeth in pain, as if Raeka was cutting open her flesh with a dagger. She instinctively wants to move away, but she discovers that she cannot will her body to move. 

She has no idea where Raeka’s intention lies. The way Raeka looks at her, contemplative and affectionate, sends a shock of fantastic horror down her spine. And she knows that something about this is off. This is not supposed to happen.

“Why ...” now it is Sara’s turn to ask that question, only her control over her emotions preventing her voice from shaking, “why are you doing this? Do you know what -” does Raeka realize that what she’s doing is romantically suggestive at best, inappropriately sexual at worst. Sara doubts it, as most salarians have no interest in such things, so perhaps she doesn’t know.

To Sara’s question, Raeka, tilting her head ever so slightly with amusement, simply responds: “I’m doing this because you asked for it. Weren’t you the one who insisted that I ranked higher than you? Well, you didn’t expect that I would go along with it, did you? You thought I wouldn't risk a _misconduct_ that would surely cause a political scandal.”

“So be it. You can tell the Initiative about what I am about to do. I would rather risk a political scandal and be hated by all the humans in the Initiative, than see you suffer needlessly.” Raeka chuckles, but her expression is serious, “I will not allow it, unless you tell me to stop.”

“I -” Sara bites her lips, cursing herself. Weakly, she tries one last time, her voice almost begging, “please, Pathfinder Raeka … ”

Sara lowers her eyes, her hands gripping her elbows. She is drowning in a flood of overwhelming emotions. She opens her mouth, wanting to tell Raeka that this is all too improper, but no words come from her lips. Raeka sighs, her finger brushing against Sara’s cheek. It dawns to Sara that she is crying, but those aren’t tears of fear or sadness.

“Ryder, you have shown me and my people great generosity. Perhaps I do not deserve it, but I will repay you and forever remain your ally. Please know that you can always come to me. I wish … ” she lets out a sigh, “I hope we can become friends. I hope that eventually, you will trust me.”

“Have you seen a lack of trust?”

“You won’t let me take care of you, even though you took the hit for me. The only logical conclusion is that you are uneasy around me, not comfortable with letting me touch you. You also tried to hide from the fact that you were hurt, from which I can only conclude that you didn’t want me to see your vulnerability,” Raeka says, “isn’t this a lack of trust?” 

Sara should be offended - Raeka barged into her bedroom in the middle of the night, made an attempt to touch her, and made ridiculous assumptions. 

She is not angry at Raeka at all, but she is tired - too tired to engage in a conversation with another colleague of hers. Whatever Raeka’s intention is, Sara cannot afford to brush off another Pathfinder. Talking to the salarian Pathfinder requires finesse and professionalism, which she is incapable of at the current moment, weak and exhausted. 

“If that is true,” she speaks, slowly, “then you are suggesting that I don’t trust any of my crew members. None of them knows about my condition.”

“Oh, no, I'm sure that you trust them, but you think that they do not care, that they detest you,”

which is not what Raeka has seen. Perhaps the krogan was furious at her, feeling betrayed, but there was never hate in his eyes during the mission. He obeyed her commands and guarded her dutifully, so did her other crew members. However, Raeka decides that it's not the best time to bring this up

The sudden change of tone is startling. With a blink of an eye, the considerate, compassionate spirit becomes a phantom that easily lashes out. Before Sara could manage a response, Raeka continues:

“If you trust me, then would you listen to me? know that your health affects your mission. If you don’t think for yourself, think for the Initiative. It won’t benefit from you sustaining untreated injuries. I will have to report to Tann so that you can be taken care of. He wouldn’t like that idea that an injured Pathfinder slows down the progress that she should be making.” 

Then she offers: “I promise I won’t tell anyone of your injury, if I know that you are treated.”

Sara is almost amused by Raeka’s effort to manipulate her into allowing her to treat the wounds. Raeka brought up her dead father, her duty to the Initiative, and that Sara not taking care of herself pains Raeka. 

Raeka tilts her head, waiting for her answer. Sara averts her gaze, looking at the small holographic projection of SAM instead. Her AI partner is unusually quiet - perhaps he doesn’t know how to make sense of the situation, either. Or perhaps he is just confused or overwhelmed by Sara’s chaotic thoughts. 

“I’ll do as you say, Pathfinder Raeka.” 

Raeka beams at her, and Sara is speechless again, fascinated by the way starlight dances in her eyes.

  


~~~~~ 

  
  
Raeka knows what Sara Ryder wants her to be - she knew it since the beginning when awakened from her cryo pod. She was terrified by it, the expression on the face of the young daughter of her dear friend.

Ryder’s brown hair was long and combed, but the longest strands on her forehead still fell below her ears, so very close to her chin. Her eyes, steely blue, reminded Raeka of the piercing gaze of Alec Ryder. She used to see those eyes, sad and longing, as Alec talked about his wife and his dream to venture out to a new galaxy. Now, the same eyes gazed back at her with such firey intensity that Raeka could almost feel her eyes burned into her chest. 

Raeka was not familiar with the aesthetic standards of humans, but there’s something about this young Pathfinder that beckoned to her - she saw the duality of hope and despair. Still disoriented from her slumber, Raeka found herself staring, thinking in awe that this was perhaps the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The flashing light on the Ark reflected on Ryder’s face, and Raeka could see the slope of her nose, the sharp edge of her chin. 

Raeka should have said something to break the silence, but Ryder was on top of her, bearing down, and her hair strands tickled Raeka’s face. Her arms were on both sides of Raeka who was still lying in the cryo pod that was just opened, found herself unable to speak, as Ryder looked at her face with those deep, beguiling eyes.

Raeka felt something warm dripping on her chin. She reached out to touch it, her fingers tainted red. Belatedly, she noticed that a fresh wound, deep and long, was on the underside of her chin. 

Then Ryder smiled at her, extending her hand.

……

Ryder disrobes in front of her. The black fabric drops from her shoulders as water drips from that of a statue. Her clothes pool around her ankles, and Raeka is confronted with a menagerie of cuts and wounds. 

The most conspicuous one starts under her left breast and extends to her right thigh. SAM must have already done something to accelerate the healing - without him, she would have bled to death. Even so, it looks bad. She remembers that a kett soldier was shooting his laser gun at her, and Ryder, using her biotics and her own body, shielded her.

Raeka lifts her head, only to find that Sara is looking at her, as well. Even in her underclothes, Ryder is not conscious of her nakedness, which Raeka finds atypical. She is different from all the other humans that Raeka has met, her father included. Alec always worried too much; his daughter cares about nothing at all.

“Would you like to sit down?” Raeka asks her.

Ryder shakes her head. She says nothing, only regarding the other woman with the faintest interest, as Raeka reaches to her pockets and retrieves antibiotics, injectors, medigel, and various other medical things that Ryder doesn’t recognize. 

“Please don’t tell me you are allergic to cephalosporin, ” says Raeka, as she moves to disinfect a small area on Ryder’s neck, “this was the only antibiotics I could find.”

“Where did you search?” Ryder seems interested.

Raeka’s hands, still holding the injector and the vaccine, halts in midair. She hesitates for a moment, then answers Ryder: “I went to the med bay.”

“You told Lexi about - this? She knew that you were coming?”

“No,” Raeka clears her throat and makes a conscious effort to not look at Sara, “I visited her lab, while she was not there.”

“You stole from Lexi?” Ryder laughter is too bright for a woman covered from head to toes with her own blood, “I should thank you, then. Lexi is always too uptight and meticulous about everything. I’d love to see her face when she finds out her stuff is missing.”

Raeka wants to say that she wouldn’t call it _stealing_ , since she took it for the well-being of Lexi’s patient, the captain of the Tempest, but the words that leave her mouth are different.

“Yes, I committed a crime for you. I’m at your mercy, Pathfinder Ryder. Please don’t turn me in.”

When Ryder is laughing at her response, Raeka injects the antibiotics. She knows the injection of cephalosporin would be painful if her mandatory training did teach her anything useful. Expectedly, Ryder gasps at the needle, her smile turning into a grimace.

“I’m sorry,” Raeka tells her. Ryder only huffs:

“Well, you could have warned me. I am not afraid of pain.”

Seeing the scars and wounds on her body, Raeka only sighs: “I am well aware of that.”

Then she disinfects her tools and puts on gloves, her long, slender fingers start to spreading medigel over the cuts. True to her words, Ryder doesn’t say a word about the pain, but Raeka can see the sweat on her forehead. On her chest.

Her deft fingers work their way on Ryder’s body. Raeka is not a medical doctor, but like many salarian scientists, she did receive training on the basics of medicine, and she is trying her best to not cause Ryder any unnecessary discomfort. Her fingerprints are light and soft, tracing along the soft curve of Ryder’s hips and breast and the toned muscles on her arms and legs. Briefly, Raeka is distracted - she is uncertain if she has overstepped, but Ryder, calm as ever, with a smile on her face and thoughts in her eyes, makes no move to stop her. 

Then she wonders.

Raeka had never been this close to a human before. Sure, she understands the basic physiology of humans, but everything she learned, she learned from lectures, videos, and medical archives. Salarians are known for their curiosity, and Raeka has to resist the urge to prod different parts of Ryder’s body. She would really like to feel the muscles and bones under her hands and perhaps listen to the pulses of her heart. 

Well, she’d better tuck that curiosity away. Ryder hasn’t made any attempt to stop her, but her gaze has become unnerving. Raeka quickly finishes applying bandages to her torso and limbs. When she stands up again, it seems like an eternity had passed.

“I’m sorry if that felt awful. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Again, Ryder shakes her head. She smiles fondly at Raeka, her hand on her neck, where Raeka injected the antibiotics and later applied a small bandage. 

“You did not.” Ryder’s voice is low, almost a whisper. Then she averts her gaze, sighing heavily, “but you didn’t have to help me. Nonetheless, I’m grateful.”

The despair and hope are back in her eyes, albeit only a moment. Then Ryder chuckles, scoffing at herself.

“You said that you could never be the one that I hoped for. If you truly believed in your own words … why did you come, then?”

The starlight outside the windows is a consortium of dark yet vibrant colors, casting a veil on Ryder’s figure. The perfect shape of her body and every flaw, every wound on it are accentuated. She looks weary, lost, and dazzling at the same time. It is not how things were supposed to be - Ryder is young, and she shouldn’t have that look on her face, as if haunted by people held by each battle that she took part in. Some are dead, some still living, clinging to her shoulders, enveloping her in their otherworldly whispers with great passion. 

Raeka has no answer to that. In truth, Ryder saved her Ark and her people, took the hit for her, so Raeka simply did not want Ryder to suffer. She wanted to do something, no matter how tiny it would be, to help Ryder, to reach out to her. She felt pain when seeing Alec’s eyes, desperate and forlorn, on his daughter’s face. She felt as if Alec was back again and his agony continued. 

“You are Alec’s daughter. I wanted to take care of you.” Raeka says. Her words don’t even register in her mind. She can no longer hold her gaze, her chest suddenly tight.

“I’m sorry, Ryder, I know this is unfair to you. You are your own person, not your father’s shadow, and shouldn’t be treated like that, but I didn’t want to lie to you.”

Her answer, however inconsiderate, seems to appease Ryder, who walks towards Raeka and stops when there’re less than two inches between them. Slowly, the human raises her arms and encases Raeka in them. She runs her hands against Raeka’s cheek, returning the other woman’s gesture. She can still smell blood on her hands, in her fingernails - that richness manages to be noisome and intoxicating at the same time. Wherever her hands move, a soft trace of redness paints Raeka’s skin. 

She touches Raeka’s face with such deliberation that one might suspect that she is looking for something. Perhaps she is looking for Alec, too, from the image of his cherished friend. 

“You are too kind, Raeka, but you don’t need to worry. I am honored to be seen as his shadow, his successor.” 

She lifts her heels. Standing on her toes, Ryder is able to reach Raeka. She leans in to press a kiss on the other woman’s cheek - but she stops herself halfway. This is not something she could afford to just do. She literally just survived death on the Archon’s ship. Probably still recovering from her shock, Sara is certain that she isn’t thinking clearly.

Instead of pressing a kiss, Sara simply touches the other woman’s cheek again, feeling Raeka leaning in. She says, genial and sincere:

“I’m glad that I went for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeknownst to each other, both Sara and Raeka pay a visit to the Pathfinder HQ the night before a dangerous mission. 
> 
> unbeta'ed. Please enjoy.

It is past midnight and most people on the Nexus have gone to sleep. The docking area, usually busy and buzzing with life, is almost a different place under the artificial moonlight. The silver-bright veil envelopes everything it touches. Distinctly, Sara remembers Earth’s snowy mountains at night; everything was sleeping calmly under the serene gaze of the moon. The beautiful scenery was but one of the many things that Sara gave up when joining the Initiative. She surrendered everything to a dream.

Sara can still hear faint voices from the Vortex, which is not very far away. She pays them no heed; instead, she heads to the tram station. After a short while, she arrives at the operation center. She walks past the staff that is on duty as they greet her.

Finally, she stands at the entrance of the Pathfinder Headquarter. The gates open for her. In front of her are the reception desk usually staffed by Tann’s secretary and the stairs that spiral upwards. Sara puts her hand on the rail. The metal is cold, shockingly so, and Sara gasps at the icy material under her fingers. Her hand jerks away instantly.

She stares at the rail for a long moment. Eventually, she lifts her gaze.

The light of the silver moon drapes the stairs with flimsy linen, rendering the ascending steps as a pavilion veiled with snow, only purer. Her footprints that would certainly corrupt snowflakes, turning them muddy and deject, cannot do a thing to this alabaster immaculation. Her hair is down, flowing on and below her shoulders, reflecting a light so bright that is almost blinding. The same light contours her face, accentuates her features. Her countenance is solemn and stern, and her steps resolute.

The Pathfinder HQ has always been much colder at night.

She ascends to the second floor, where the holographic projections of the deceased Pathfinders stand. There are three of them - the original turian Pathfinder Macen, the original asari Pathfinder Ishara, and her father, Alec Ryder. He is exactly what she remembers - greying hair, gentle smile, and the eyes that are so forlorn, always gazing beyond the horizon even when he was still alive, when he was talking to her. Sara used to get angry at this - that he cared for the dead and clung to the past that was forever lost.

She puts her hand on the surface of the projection stand. Easily her fingers pass through the holographic reminisce of Alec Ryder. 

_Why didn’t you come back to haunt me?_ Silently, Sara asks him. _I didn’t see you in my dreams. Am I such a disappointment that you are even willing to face me after you died?_

“I will get to Meridian before the Archon attempts anything. Tann did not approve, but I have the support of the other Pathfinders.” Sara whispers, gazing at the unchanging face of her father, “I will not bring my team. If I didn’t come back, Cora would become the human Pathfinder.” She smiles, absent-mindedly, her fingers tapping at the stand, “you will approve this, won’t you? Cora was your second. You trained her to be your successor.”

Her father, of course, is not responding. Suddenly tired and overwhelmed, Sara buries her face in her hands. She feels SAM’s intention - he wants to say something but eventually decides against it. 

“I do not deserve your forgiveness, SAM,” she speaks, “even though I know what you are going to say.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” says SAM, the same response he has given her several days ago on the Tempest. Then he observes, “you have been apologizing to me a lot recently.” 

“You saved my life. Literally revived me. And here I am again, throwing myself into danger and most likely death. I never meant to disrespect or disregard your effort. It is unfair for you to get bundled up with me. You didn’t get to choose.”

SAM is silent for a long time. Briefly, Sara wonders if she had said something that made SAM sad, stating that he wasn’t given a choice when Alec transferred him to Sara. Despite everyone’s objection, she believes that SAM is a person, endowed with intelligence, an agent of his own free will. It must hurt tremendously to be tied to another individual and doubted by the entire Initiative. She never discusses the freedom of choice and free will with SAM, afraid of hurting him, reminding him of his trap. 

She can feel SAM’s intention and, to a certain degree, thoughts, but she doesn’t sense discomfort or sadness. Perhaps she should be proud of herself, for making SAM, the embodiment of the pinnacle of the Milky Way technology, speechless despite his quantum computational powers.

“You didn’t get to choose to be a Pathfinder, either, and you didn’t choose me,” this response comes out as a sigh, “Perhaps we have more in common than you thought, Pathfinder.”

_And it’s only befitting that we were bound with each other, by the same person that we both loved and respected._

Alec died in the process of saving Sara, with him the dreams and hopes of so many Initiative citizens. Even though it is impossible that one person could embody something so huge, many people joined the Initiative because of Alec Ryder. Sara took him away from his people.

“My recklessness led to his death. The Initiative still grieves him. I fear that it will take a very long time for them to recover. Therefore, it is only befitting that I should be tied to the role of Pathfinder, like a convict to the chain, but you have done nothing to deserve the shackle.”

Her grip on the stand tightens. Slowly, Sara crouches down, her forehead pressed against the cold metal. 

Then she hears footsteps. 

It is perplexing that someone would choose to visit the Pathfinder Headquarter at midnight, apart from her. Only the commanders of the Initiative and their assistants are allowed to enter, and Sara has a distinct feeling that she knows who this unexpected visitor is. 

The footsteps stop behind her. The newcomer doesn’t call out her name. 

“Fancy meeting you here at this hour,” still kneeling on the floor, Sara jokingly addresses the visitor without turning around, “I didn’t expect to see you here, but it’s not surprising that you might want to come, after all.”

Her words are met with silence. Then, abruptly, she is encased by a pair of long arms, and the top of her head pressed under the other person’s chin. Sara stares at the gloved hands on her chest, ivory-white sleeves covered with an assortment of buttons that give out a dim, soothing light, not so different from the holographic projections of the deceased Pathfinders. 

Not so different from the robes worn by the salarian scientists back in the Milky Way and here on the Nexus.

Slowly, Sara lifts her arm until her smaller hands cover the other woman’s fingers. With her eyes closed, Sara thinks about the first night she spent with this woman. The only time that she ever saw Raeka took off her gloves. The deft fingers patched her up with needles and medications, all the while leaving a trail of rending pain that burnt hotter than her wounds. She eyed every part of her body, every scar, every flaw and uttered no words of astonishment, detestment, and pity. Like her fellow salarians scientists, Raeka was so dispassionate, so clinical, but she must feel emotions all the same. She even acknowledged it - that she wanted to take care of the daughter of her late friend, but how could she keep her emotions from overwhelming her? How could she still remain professional and efficient, knowing that all the original Pathfinders perished while defending their people, while she alone survived?

“You are very perspective, even more so than I thought,” Raeka tells her, still embracing Sara tightly, “but I’m hardly surprised. You are a remarkable woman, Ryder, and I wish that … you would believe it, too.”

Sara leans against Raeka’s chest. The both of them are sitting on the floor now, limbs tangled, which is very unbecoming of two commanders of the Initiative, but Tann is not here to throw his tantrum. Sara’s hands cling to Raeka’s: “I do believe you. I will always believe you.”

Raeka chuckles: “Are you sure that’s wise? Your krogan friend already thinks that I got into your head.”

Sara laughs at that comment: “His reaction was understandable. You spent an entire night in my bedroom.” Because she cannot resist, Sara has to say: “well, in my bed, to be specific.”

She thinks about that night in which Raeka held her in her arms, her fingers tangled Sara’s hair. It had been so long since someone gathered her up and comforted her. And Sara cried and cried, her tears soaked Raeka’s robe. 

Sara could not fall asleep, so Raeka told Sara stories - the flora on the salarians’ planets, especially their homeworld Sur’Kesh. She told her about the golden meadow decorated with the bioillumination of insects’ wings, purple canopies, and strange, eerie flowers with ink-black petals. She told Sara about the research effort that she led to contain the pollution to preserve the pristine sceneries of their ancestry home. She went on and on about botany, using terms that Sara didn’t understand, but Sara was absorbed in her stories. She fell asleep, dreaming of a salarian woman renouncing her role as a dalatrass and instead leading a group of scientists mending a wounded planet, with the same attention and care she devoted to Sara's injuries.

She can’t forget the look that Raeka gave her. Affectionate, gentle, as if she had known her for a long time. Briefly, she was angry at her father for hiding Raeka away from her, and her from Raeka. 

She wonders if Raeka still has that same expression on her face. How surreally mesmerizing it must be, to see the silvery moonlight sculpt her every feature and glisten in her eyes. Before she turns around, Raeka’s hand reaches up, brushing against her chin:

“I was honored that you allowed me.”

Raeka’s arms drop, and Sara turns around. Her hands are on Raeka’s face again, just as they were, a few nights ago, when she told Raeka that she was glad of her survival. She thought about kissing her that night but brushed it off - she was probably not thinking clearly after surviving the ordeal on the Archon’s ship. But now the urge is back, more intense than before. She just wants one kiss, so she’ll finally know if such a thought ever crossed Raeka’s mind, too.

She wonders if Raeka would indulge her as well.

So she wraps her fingers around the white robe of the scientist. Raeka offers no resistance, only smiling at her. They are close - almost too close, and Raeka’s hands slide down to Sara’s waist, gently holding her. She can feel Raeka’s breath, just as that night they shared. 

“You keep looking at me as if you want something,” Raeka tells Sara, her eyes dropping away.

“It’s hardly news to you.”

“I have told you this - I can never be the one you look for. You may consider yourself unforgivable, but I have also done my fair share of crimes, as you put it; you just don’t know about them yet.”

She feels the arms around her waist tense. There’s sadness in that statement. 

“I’m terrified at the inevitable future in which I will disappoint you.”

“If you are terrified, push me away.”

Slowly, Raeka shakes her head: “I cannot find it in me to stop you.” 

Sara lips brush against Raeka’s chin. 

A chaste kiss, given under the soft gaze of the moon. The kiss is every bullet that ever buried into her flesh, every scar that ever marked her body. Raeka did consider kissing her, too, and she did kiss her wounds with her fingertips, for it is exactly the same feeling when Raeka touched her before - the intricate patterns weaved by her fingers and carved painfully onto her skin. 

She drinks in the gesture, savoring it. She will remember the feeling, in case it is the last time she’ll ever experience it.

_Since it is the last time she’ll ever experience it._

~~~~~

Raeka stands by the projections, looking at the staircase where Ryder disappeared. That young woman carries too much sorrow and weariness on her shoulders. Raeka has no doubt that the human Pathfinder came to bid her father farewell. Ryder believes that she will not return from the mission to take Meridia, even with the new technology Ghost Storm. 

If she believes this is going to be a one-way journey, she will not bring any of her squadmates. 

Now it is Raeka's turn to gaze at the projections. The faces of her deceased colleagues are solemn and serious, their eyes looking at something far, far away, beyond the horizon. A dream that is forever intangible to them, to which they sacrificed their lives. 

Among the original four Pathfinders, Zevin Raeka is the only one that survived long enough to see the Nexus, and she can’t help but feel like she somehow failed her people as their Pathfinder, by not giving up her life.

She had the chance to do so, on the Archon’s ship, after she ordered Hajyer to take control of the salarian Ark and left her behind. She thought she did the right thing - she still does. Had she died there, she would have become a martyr, her projection among theirs, but Ryder took away that opportunity. Against the odds, she lived, and the living have to bear the burden of their loved ones’ death.

She still remembers Macen who always liked to bring up his second-in-command Avitus, his eyes beaming with pride. She would tease him for being in love with someone that he had authority over. She remembers Ishara, too; the asari matriarch was very strict with her subordinates, but Raeka would always trust her to have her back. 

Then there was Alec, one of her closest, truest friends in the Milky Way, and the only one that signed up to come here. She remembers listening to Alec’s tales of the adventures and misadventures of him and his wife. She remembers telling Alec about the conservation programs she directed, and Alec would listen closely, just as his daughter did. 

They are dead. She was denied death. Denied the opportunity to join them. Denied the luxury to lay down her weapons and responsibilities. 

Perhaps it is ungrateful to resent one’s survival. Perhaps it is ungrateful to resent one’s savior.

She gazes at Alec’s face. Those steely, blue eyes were full of tears a few moments ago. Ryder was crying in her arms, her vulnerability breaking Raeka’s heart. From what she has heard and seen, the human Pathfinder is not one to show her weaknesses to everyone - her subordinates, her colleagues, her peers, her superiors … The humans trust that their Pathfinder always has a solution, and people of other species think highly of Ryder, too, since she successfully made several planets habitable enough to have outposts established. Ryder’s arrival with the Hyperion brought electricity and water, and she hasn’t yet failed at a single task to this day. 

Alec should be proud of her, but she is too young to decide who lives and who dies. There isn’t always a win-win solution for every problem. Sometimes both outcomes are bad, and one has to choose the lesser evil. 

Ryder is haunted by the choices that she needs to make as the human Pathfinder. She is tortured by the ghosts of those whose death she is responsible for. 

Raeka wonders if this motivated Ryder to go along with the plan to take control of Meridian before the Archon. She seeks redemption in her death, the honor that she denied Raeka. 

She touches her face, her fingers on her chin where Ryder pressed her kiss. To humans, asari, and turians, a kiss is a gesture of affection and love. Being a salarian, Raeka never thought she would be the recipient of such a gesture. Ryder’s expression was almost reverent, her lips cold. 

Does Ryder love her? Probably not, since they have only recently met, but Ryder is obsessed with her, if nothing else. She thinks Zevin Raeka as a mentor that can replace her father, someone who has all the answers, someone who can save her from her pain and sorrow. Raeka has told her, repeatedly, that her hands are just as blood-stained as Ryder, and her crimes no less severe. Ryder refuses to listen. Refuses to believe.

Raeka lets out a long sigh, her hand on her forehead. Then she speaks to her friend, whose projection floats before her.

“She needed a teacher, but you couldn’t be one. You should have introduced me to her. I could have been with her back then … when I still had a chance to prepare her for your … absence. Your son, too. Sara has a younger brother, doesn’t she?”

The projection is silent, unmoved. It is so easy to call her Sara, but for now she can only afford to do so when Ryder is not around.

Raeka traces over the brink of the stand with her fingers. 

“On a second thought, maybe not. I could have stolen her away from you just so I could show her the galaxy as I knew it; I would have been tempted. There are always things that must be protected, even if the effort will be in vain. The greatest tragedy is innocence lost, but I could have been there with her.”

She spends the rest of the night talking at Alec, just as she used to when he was alive. She tells him about the Paarchero, the Initiative, Sara and her crew. She also tells him that she is excited to see the flora and fauna of the Andromeda Galaxy and that she can’t wait to visit the angara world Aya. 

At dawn, she makes a promise to her old friend that she will take care of his family. She will not break the promise, and she will not let Sara die.

~~~~~

On the day that Sara is going to go to Meridian under the Archon’s nose, the Tempest sees an uninvited guest. And they didn’t discover the guest until they were already halfway to the destination.

Their Pathfinder is still in the conference cabin, discussing details with the turian Pathfinder who will pilot the starship that broadcasts false signals to confuse the kett.

“Why are you here!?” Drack shouts out.

Glancing over the shocked faces of Sara’s crew, Raeka, leaning comfortably against the cabin door, smiles at him: “I am here to help.”

“Help!? The one last thing we need is another salarian on the ship!” Drack practically roars. Their salarian pilot casts him a tired glance, and the krogan is, as usual, unaffected.

“You were the one who told me that I needed to earn the survival of my people. I intend to do just that.”

Cora pulled Drack away before he could swing a fist at the salarian Pathfinder. Raeka waits patiently for Cora’s return, the smile on her face unwavering.

So this is Sara’s crew. A salarian pilot, several humans, one krogan, one asari, one turian, and one angara. Raeka had the chance to speak to a few of them briefly during her last time aboard. She didn’t really have the time to know them, but she noted that Sara had a diverse team. In ecosystems, diversity indicates stabilization. She nods in approval. 

“You don’t have to be on your guard. I have no ulterior motives, although I do apologize for not notifying any of you. ”

The Tempest’s crew members regard each other, not knowing what to say. In the end, it is the science officer who breaks the silence: “It’s … umm … thank you, Pathfinder Raeka, but Ryder didn’t mention that you were coming.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

“Ryder is unaware that I am here. She plans to go to Meridian alone, but I am concerned about her safety due to the danger of this mission.”

“We didn’t know that Ryder planned to do it alone,” Jaal says, incredulous, "how did you know?"

Raeka only tells him: “I thought so, which’s why I came. She might command you to not accompany her, but she has no authority over me, and I intend to go with her, with or without her approval.”

Cora is hesitant: “That is very generous of you, but we cannot have you risk your life over this mission. This mission is not sanctioned by the Initiative, and we cannot afford to put two Pathfinders in danger.”

“Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant Harper, but I have made up my mind. I have made necessary preparations in case I didn’t survive. Hajyer will be the next Pathfinder. He will not fail my people.”

Everyone stares at her. Apparently they want to say something to stop her, but no words come out. The only option they can do is to throw her off the Tempest, and Raeka knows that. She smiles pleasantly at them, clearly enjoying herself. She cannot resist it - salarians do like the feeling of outmaneuvering others. 

Finally, Ryder emerges from the stairs.

“We just re-confirmed with Dr. Adrianna that Sarissa can use - why are you guys all here in the command room?”

Her crew stands aside, and Raeka is face-to-face with Ryder. It has only been a few hours since their last conversation. There’s no softness in Ryder’s now, only confidence and determination, the mask that she wears when she is not alone with Raeka. Instantly, Raeka’s eyes are on her lips again. She thinks about the gentle, fleeting kiss that Sara gave her. She thought she was bidding her farewell? Raeka won’t allow it.

“You - Why are you - ” Sara stares at her. Then she proclaims, “we were looking for you! Hajyer said you were off somewhere else, on some urgent mission so you couldn’t attend!”

“I _am_. You don’t think this mission of taking control over Meridian before the kett is urgent?”

“That’s not what I meant! I - Why are you on my ship!?” then she looks at everyone else, “why didn’t anyone find out that someone sneaked aboard!? I thought we had sensors and surveillance systems!?”

Dead silence. Finally, Gil offers: “you know, she has SAM, just like you. SAM must have hidden her vitals and fooled the Tempest’s sensors.”

“Yes,” Kallo says, swallowing, “also, no one thought that someone would be able to hack the cabin doors. At least, only the Pathfinders’ partner AI has that ability, and we never thought ...” he trails off.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sara says dryly, “you went through an awful lot of trouble to ambush me.”

“I will accompany you to Meridian, since you didn’t plan to take any of your squadmates with you.”

 _How did Raeka know?_ She is certain that she never told Raeka anything about it. She told no one. How could Raeka have figured it out?

Sara feels her temples throb. With a waving of her hand, she dismisses her crew. Walking past Raeka, Sara goes to Kallo and Suvi to inform them of the newest update on the layout of the Archon’s defense system obtained by Sarissa. 

“We still have two hours and thirty-three minutes until we arrive at our destination.” Kallo’s eyes dart between the salarian Pathfinder, who leisurely leans against Peebee’s escape pod, and the human Pathfinder, whose face has become unreadable at the unexpected turn of events, “do you want to … talk to Pathfinder Raeka, or something?”

Sara turns around: “It is too late to deliver her to any safe locations. Pathfinder Raeka certainly chose a convenient time to show herself.”

Raeka doesn’t deny it: “that I did. I couldn’t have myself ‘delivered to any safe locations’ by you, after all.” And she takes great satisfaction in seeing the mild frustration on Ryder’s face. 

Sara walks to her. “Pathfinder Raeka.” 

“Yes, Pathfinder Ryder?” Raeka looks at her expectantly.

“Come with me, if you please?”

Raeka has no complaints. She follows Sara downstairs. She is a little surprised that Sara doesn’t lead her to the conference room, however. Instead, the door of her personal quarters open for her and Raeka follows her inside.

~~~~~

“I cannot believe Hajyer was in this! How could he send his Pathfinder to -”

This is the first thing Sara speaks to her after they are finally alone, but she stops herself mid-sentence. Raeka offers:

“To _die_?”

Sara says nothing.

“Is it your intention of going alone, then? To die?”

Sara looks at Raeka for a long time. Ever since the first time she saw this woman, she knew getting involved with her would be trouble. Most salarian women are groomed to be politicians, master manipulators, and the race has a reputation for producing sharp-minded scientists and observant spies. _Raeka is every salarian stereotype embodied,_ Sara finds the situation mildly amusing, despite the danger that lies ahead.

Did her father feel the same way about her? They were close friends; he must have confided in her, too. Did Raeka analyze his every word, every gesture, and every change in tone of his voice? 

“I see that I made a mistake of confiding in you,” although there is no regret in her voice, “you are too clever, it’s almost uncanny.”

“You father said the same thing.” Raeka murmurs, “but I never used it against him, and I will never use it against you.”

Sara wants to ask _why do you care_ , but she recalls Raeka’s answer to the very same question - she’s Alec’s daughter, a fellow colleague of hers, a valuable asset to the Initiative, etc. Maybe this is all. There are no other motives. Sara doesn’t understand why she would hope for more.

“I assume you are going to tell me the Initiative needs me and I shouldn’t be so careless.” Sara says quietly, “but sacrifices are necessary.”

“And I assume you’ll try to convince me why the Initiative needs me more than you.”

Technically Raeka is right, but Sara, suddenly being childish, doesn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing so. Sara chuckles softly, “No. Here’s my question - what makes you want to die with me?”

“Contrary to what you might be thinking, I don’t plan on dying,” Raeka tells her as she closes the distance. Finally, they are chest to chest, and Raeka takes her hands in her palms, “I don’t plan to let you die, either. We will reach Meridian, take it away from the Archon, and return to the Nexus. Alive.”

Then she adds gently, “you saved me. By doing so, you conferred a certain value to my life, and I have no intention to give it up easily.”

Sara should be angry - Raeka ambushed her on her own ship, but she feels no anger. Pretty much like a few nights ago, when Raeka barged into her bedroom and made demands. There’s kindness in her actions, and Sara is helpless to that gentle affection. She can’t help but think that choosing Raeka’s life over several others was the most selfish decision she has ever made. She did tell Tann and Kesh that they needed a trained Pathfinder, but it wasn’t the core of it.

She desperately needed something to ground her - something from her past, something from her father, something from the Milky Way, and her wishes came back to her in the form of Zevin Raeka. More often than not, she finds herself thinking about her life before Andromeda and after Alec’s death, and how reassuring it would be if Raeka had been there. 

Lowering her eyes, Sara looks at their fingers intertwined together. Raeka seems fond of physical touches, which Sara can relate due to their 600-year slumber that deprived them of physical contact. Though Raeka doesn’t do this with anyone else.

Gently, she brings the other woman’s hands near her chest. Raeka gasps in surprise, but Sara holds her hands so that they press against her heart. 

“Ryder … ?”

Sara’s eyes are closed, and her lips curl up slightly. Raeka is not prepared to see the unguarded happiness on Ryder’s face.

“Tell me, do you really think that I - that we will return safely?”

“Of course. I would have destroyed the Tempest before the mission just to prevent you from departing, had I thought otherwise.” Sara laughs, but Raeka is entirely serious, “I am not joking, Ryder.”

“Then we’ll go together, and we will return together. I said I trust you, Raeka, and I meant it.”

She opens her eyes. For the first time, it is Raeka who finds herself speechless, stunned by the trust she sees. She is used to people suspecting her of any foul play, so this catches her off-guard. That trust is, for the lack of a better word, _pure_ , or even innocent. Raeka remembers the ways soft petals yielded against her fingers as she inspected injuries when she led a conservation effort. The way dangerous beasts tugged away their teeth and claws, allowing her to tend them and care for them.

She would murmur unintelligible words to them, hoping to soothe them. She was always amazed by the trust they showed her, and she often found herself questioning whether she truly deserved it.

But Ryder is no dangerous animal or delicate flower. She is a decorated Pathfinder. She is Raeka's equal. 

“I ... thank you.”

Raeka looks away at the windows bashfully. Sara wonders if salarians blush, and now she gets her answer.

Raeka is charming - Sara can easily see that, and it would be so easy to get swept by her charm. This is so unwise, but Sara allows herself to imagine such a thing, when Raeka’s not looking at her. She hopes the other woman won’t get the opportunity to notice that her mind wanders.

But what would happen? What would Sara do? Raeka is a salarian, and it is not exactly a secret that they have no interest in such a thing. Back in the Milky ways, there’s a specific genre of romance novels and vids centered on the trope of falling in love with a salarian. Such love isn’t always unrequited, but they rarely end well. Sara never liked those stories, considering them melodramatic and foolish, but she sees reason now.

Raeka may like her well enough to hold her, but it is unclear to Sara if Raeka really registers the meaning of all her gestures. And salarians live way shorter than humans. Belatedly, Sara realizes that Raeka will always leave her behind, as a mentor, as a friend. 

The thought is so paralyzing that Sara’s hands go rigid and tense, which brings back Raeka’s attention.

“Ryder?”

Sara smiles at her: “nothing, I was just … thinking.” Raeka doesn’t ask for more, but Sara continues anyway, “about the future. And I am terrified by it, despite the outcome of this mission.”

“Am I in this future that you are talking about?”

“Yes. I suppose so.”

“Then I will be there with you. Do not be afraid.”

Sara only sighs, “don’t make promises that you cannot keep, my friend, but thank you. I know that you are sincere, and it means a lot more to me than you could ever imagine.”

Then she presses a kiss on the other woman's knuckles. Another chaste peck, but her lips linger at Raeka’s fingertips long after the kiss. The next moment, she is encased by Raeka’s arms again, her face pressed against the dip on Raeka’s chest. Sara’s smile widens, as she listens to Raeka’s heart, so close to her ear.

This is all that she needs. This is all that she could ever ask for.


End file.
